


Of Mice and Language

by Quecksilver_Eyes



Series: Narnia Musings [49]
Category: Chronicles of Narnia - C. S. Lewis
Genre: Gen, Poetry, an exploration of language and stone tables and mice and traitors, its not really graphic but like. people die on that table so.
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-19
Updated: 2020-04-19
Packaged: 2021-03-02 04:28:43
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 269
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23739112
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Quecksilver_Eyes/pseuds/Quecksilver_Eyes
Summary: There was a time, my love, | when after a traitor was given to the witch | the table | the lion | the mice, without Language nor faith in the lion and its maw full of teeth | would break the ropes
Relationships: The Mice (Narnia) & Aslan (Narnia)
Series: Narnia Musings [49]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1714795
Comments: 8
Kudos: 34





	Of Mice and Language

Here is the thing, though, about Language

(besides it being a funny, fickle thing)

(besides the fact that there are Beasts that talk and Beasts that won’t and Beasts that can’t)

Language is not innate in mice.  
A mouse is not a Talking Beast, see  
(and, after all, barely a Beast in the first place)

A mouse is not born with Narnian Language lodged in their throat  
or the longing for East deep within their bones  
the way a beaver is  
the way a fox is  
or a wolf

A mouse is born squeaking and blind  
and unknowing  
the way a human is

There was a time, my love,  
when mice did not speak at all  
not even after knowing Narnia  
and all she is.

There was a time, my love,  
when the stone table was still used  
when the witch still coated us all in ice  
when a traitor was still a sacrifice  
when stone was still hungry for blood

There was a time, my love,  
when after a traitor was given to the witch  
the table  
the lion  
the mice, without Language nor faith in the lion and its maw full of teeth  
would break the ropes

It was just them, then, my love  
their teeth and their ears and the rising sun  
where neither witch nor lion nor Narnia could see  
the funeral they made for each Beast that was a Traitor once

And in the end, the mice warped Language  
into their throats and their tongues and their teeth  
like the taste of bloody rope  
like the coldness of stone  
like royalty, heavy with tears.


End file.
